Two weeks later, back from the honeymoon, life rushed forward in a blur of work and routine. But the envelope and its aftermath lingered in my mind like a splinter. At a Sunday brunch with my in-laws, the subject was broached, albeit indirectly. “Your father seems like a nice man,” my mother-in-law said, her voice smooth but her eyes probing.
“He is,” I replied, meeting her gaze. Her expression remained unreadable, but I felt the weight of the unspoken expectations between us.
After the meal, while my wife chatted with her siblings, my father-in-law pulled me aside. “I hear your dad gave you a little something at the wedding,” he said, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“Yes, it was a thoughtful gesture,” I replied, wary of where the conversation might lead.
He nodded, his expression unchanged. “Family is important,” he said, and the conversation drifted to safer topics.
As we drove home, my wife asked, “What did Dad want to talk about?” I hesitated, then told her about the brief exchange. She sighed, a mix of frustration and empathy in her eyes. “They just don’t understand,” she said.
“Maybe they don’t want to,” I replied, feeling the quiet power play that had begun to unfold around us.
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